


You Didn't Think We Were Exclusive, Did You?

by carry_on_my_wayward_wesley



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M, M/M, this turned out a lot gayer than I expected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 21:23:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7817818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carry_on_my_wayward_wesley/pseuds/carry_on_my_wayward_wesley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's all fun and games until someone gets caught with their pants down. The "someone" being Wesley, and the "pants down" being literal, this really can't end well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Didn't Think We Were Exclusive, Did You?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alkeni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alkeni/gifts).



Wesley shut off the treadmill and dropped his hands to his sides as the machine slowed to a stop. Breathing heavily, he stepped down and retrieved his water bottle from the treadmill’s cup holder. He tipped his head back and took several deep gulps of the ice cold water, grimacing at the way his sweaty hair clung uncomfortably to the back of his neck with the movement. He would need to get a haircut soon. The summer was getting too hot for him to keep it this long.

He retrieved his t-shirt from the railing he’d draped it over before his half hour run. Slinging it over his shoulder, he made his way to the locker room to shower.

A young man was sitting on the bench in the aisle between the rows of lockers. He looked up and cocked a confident half-smile, blatantly eyeing Wesley’s bare chest as he passed by. Wesley ignored him and headed for the shower stalls at the back of the room.

When he returned to the lockers twenty minutes later, the young man was still there, straddling the bench and evidently taking his time lacing up his sneakers. Wesley rummaged through his locker for the change of clothes he’d brought with him, and the young man on the bench watched him with interest, making no effort to hide his appreciative smile and roving gaze when Wesley removed the towel from around his waist.

“I was watching you out there earlier,” the stranger said, nodding towards the door. “Pretty intense workout routine you’ve got.”

Wesley pulled on his blue jeans and cast the young man a suspicious side glance. It was unusual for anyone to engage him in conversation at the gym. Between the almost perpetual scowl he wore on his face, and the gruesome scar on his neck, the regulars at this place generally knew to give him a wide berth.

“I’ve seen you here a few times before,” the young man went on.

“And?” Wesley said tersely.

The stranger was undeterred by Wesley’s brusqueness. If anything, he seemed to be enjoying the challenge of getting the taciturn man to talk to him. He swung one leg over the bench, turning to face Wesley.

“And, I just think you’re kind of a mystery,” he said. “What with that scary-lookin’ scar on your neck, and this whole _keep away_ vibe you’ve got goin’ on. I mean, you have the approachability of a porcupine. You come in here, you don’t talk to anybody, you go through your whole grueling routine, and then you leave. Same thing, every time.”

“I wasn’t aware this was meant to be a social club,” Wesley said flatly.

“And you’re a smartass,” the young man rose from the bench and stepped in close to Wesley, bracing one hand against the locker behind him and boldly dropping the other hand onto Wesley’s bare shoulder. He stroked his thumb seductively over the older man’s collarbone, and met his eyes with a fierce smile. “I kinda like that.”

The corner of Wesley’s mouth turned upward. “You don’t seem particularly put off by someone who has the approachability of a porcupine,” he said, tilting his head and echoing the young man’s words back to him in a taunting voice.

“What can I say?” the stranger breathed into his ear. “I’m not afraid of getting pricked.”

Then the young man’s mouth was on his, and Wesley found himself reaching up, grasping at the back of the stranger’s head and pulling him deeper into the kiss. The stranger pressed him against the lockers, and Wesley felt the cold, hard metal against his back and the heat of the young man’s hands on his chest. One hand trailed slowly down his torso and came to a stop on the waistband of his jeans. The young man fumbled with the button and reached for the zipper, but Wesley grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“Not here,” Wesley mumbled between kisses. “My place.”

“Your car or mine?” The young man whispered breathlessly.

“I walked here,” Wesley told him. “I live nearby. On the other side of the park.”

He pulled on a t-shirt, and the two men exited the gym together. They made their way across the park, stopping once to make out against a particularly inviting tree before continuing towards Wesley’s apartment.

When they got inside, Wesley slammed the door quickly just before the young man pinned him against the nearest wall, and they resumed their make-out session with increased fervor. The stranger grasped Wesley’s shoulders and pulled him forward just long enough to get his shirt off. He tossed it aside, pushed Wesley back up against the wall, and kissed him passionately. He pulled away from Wesley’s mouth and kissed his neck, then his collarbone, his chest, his stomach, working his way further and further down until he was on his knees, unzipping Wesley’s blue jeans and tugging them down.

His jeans dropped to the floor, pooling around his ankles, and Wesley leaned his head back against the wall, breathing hard in fervent anticipation as the young man in front of him hungrily eyed his rock hard dick.

“I was wondering when you’d be home,” both men froze at the sound of the sultry voice across the room, and Wesley turned his head to see Lilah Morgan sauntering out of the bedroom, completely naked and dangling a pair of silver, gleaming handcuffs from one finger.

“You certainly took your ti—” Lilah stopped mid-sentence and drew up short at the sight in front of her. “Who’s your friend?” she asked coyly.

The stranger scrambled to his feet and staggered backwards, away from Wesley. “You have a—is that your wife? Y-your girlfriend? What the—what the _fuck!?_ ”

Wesley ignored the young man’s distress and favored Lilah with an almost condescending smirk. “You didn’t think we were exclusive, did you?”

“Just didn’t realize you swung both ways, is all,” Lilah said, looking the young man up and down with an interested eye. She didn’t seem bothered by her state of undress in the stranger’s presence. In fact, Wesley noted with some amusement that the young man was the only one of them who _wasn’t_ naked, and somehow the only one who _was_ embarrassed.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Lilah,” Wesley said. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the young man fumble for the doorknob and make a hasty exit out of the apartment.

“Evidently not,” Lilah said, raising her voice a little to be heard as she walked back to the bedroom.

Wesley pulled up his jeans and followed her, pausing in the doorway and watching as she set aside the handcuffs and got dressed.

“I certainly didn’t know you were the type to hook up with a nameless Neanderthal from your neighborhood gym,” she said, giving him a pointed look as she picked up her purse and walked past him to leave the room.

He turned to watch her go. “I suppose after sleeping with you, I can’t make a claim to having standards anymore.”

Lilah stopped and turned back around to face him. “Is that what this is?” she asked. “You’re trying to prove how cold and callous you are, how little I mean to you?”

“Not everything I do is about you, Lilah,” Wesley said.

“So you just _happened_ to decide to bring your new boy-toy back to your place the day after you gave me a key?” Lilah challenged.

Wesley stepped in close, a hint of a smirk playing over his features. “Does it bother you?” he said in a low voice. “Seeing me with someone else?”

“Wesley, you can sleep with whoever you want. Doesn’t matter to me. If you think you’re gonna hurt my feelings that easily—”

“You don’t have feelings.”

“Maybe not,” Lilah said with a slight shrug, turning toward the door. “But the next time you wanna try fighting dirty...maybe try a little harder.”

The door shut behind her, and Wesley was alone. He kept his gaze fixed on the door as he thought about the scene that had just played out. For all her apparent nonchalance, Wesley was certain he’d heard a slight tremor in Lilah’s voice when she first laid eyes on the stranger.

 _Had_ he done it to hurt her? It was true he knew she might be here waiting for him.

No, he decided with a shake of his head as he sat down on the couch and leaned back against the cushions. You actually needed to _care_ about someone to want to hurt them, and he didn’t give a damn about Lilah.

She didn’t give a damn about him either, Wesley told himself. She couldn’t. A cold-hearted bitch like Lilah couldn’t possibly care enough about anyone to be hurt by a cheap stunt like this.

He looked toward the door again.

Still, if she really didn’t care, why did she leave? If it really didn’t matter, why didn’t she stick around so they could do whatever she was planning to do with those handcuffs?

 _She doesn’t care._ Wesley told himself again. _She doesn’t care. She can’t._

He tipped his head forward and glanced down at the bulge in his jeans. One way or another, he wasn’t getting any tonight, from either of his earlier prospects, and there was still the matter of what was going on in his pants.

Wesley reached for the zipper. He would just have to take care of that himself.


End file.
